


Sleep on; Green Heart

by TwistedViolets



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Background Diego being a mommy’s boy, Dreams, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, five being five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedViolets/pseuds/TwistedViolets
Summary: The best dreams Klaus has are the ones where he's dying.
Relationships: Dave/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	Sleep on; Green Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Themes of self harm/suicide.

It was always a long day when he was sober. Somewhere always there was a ticking clock, yelling at him, screaming more like, and he couldn't help how his head began to pound but no one else seemed to care.

Not Diego who sharpened his blades, talking on and on about Vanya this and Vanya that. At some point Klaus lost track of the conversation and when he came back from daydreaming about ice cream dogs, Diego was on a whole new subject. 

"I dug through the ruins of the house and managed to dig out-mom, well what I could find. I couldn't find anything from the waist down but it's a start, although I honestly don't know where to start on repairing her-are you even listening?"

"Yup, yeah, you found mom," he takes a bite of his ice cream that was more of a milkshake than ice cream at this point. A completely chocolate puddle was all that was in his blue bowl Diego had graciously given him, as a- stay away from my nice things present.

Living with Diego is such a drag.

"Is that what that is?" He gestures to the lump hidden underneath a blanket in the corner of the room, he had noticed but certainly thought that with the human shape indicated a sex doll and well he wasn't going to ask about that- although the urge had been digging at him.

"Yeah," Diego frowns, blowing on his blade before looking over at him. "Don't call her a that."

He places the bowl against his mouth, drinking the rest of his chocolate milk, some drips down his chin and he shrugs his shoulders before licking his lips and discarding the bowl on a pile of books beside the couch. He fluffs the pillow before laying down- power nap here he comes.

Diego glares at him.

Ben sits by his feet, head in his hand, a small muttering of something, probably stupid or you're so insensitive sometimes.

...

Sleep is the only time he finds peace.

He dreams of a battlefield. He dreams of bullets flying past his ears, deafening him. He dreams of the dirt and piss he crawled through and that leads him to feeling the mud in his mouth when he ducked down, away from enemy fire. He dreams of holding his lover's hand, his shirt, his vest, begging for some unforgiving god not to take him.

His prayers get him nowhere and always the world falls apart around him and all he's left is black space, completely quiet, and his own sobs fill his ears and he begs Dave. "Please just stay with me," Dave doesn't answer, doesn't move, doesn't even look.

Dave disappears from his arms and instead a razor is in its place and he sliding it along his skin, begging again, but this time for death, to be reunited, but the world laughs at his attempts.

Every time he feels death taking him, blackness overcoming his vision and the sounds of his own dripping blood distorting, he wakes up.

Again and again, a cycle; tonight is no different.

He bolted up right, hands against his face, wiping away the tears and he has to looks around, to assure himself that none of it was real. He didn't really try to kill himself, he didn't really hold a razor to his wrist, he didn't really-

"Fuck," he mutters covering his mouth as he begins to feel a wave of nausea hit him. Always after one of these dreams and he wakes up and he realizes he didn't do it...

He is too much of a coward...only in his dreams can he feel, even for a moment, brave, fierce, like he'd stop at nothing to see Dave again.

He wants to so badly, to see Dave, to hold him again, to touch him and talk to him and listen to his stories of home, and he misses Dave so much.

Pain like this, on the heart, is worse than any physical pain he's ever experienced.

...

"You're going to die," Five's nose is scrunched up in absolute disgust while watching him.

He hums in agreement while continuing to fill his glass with chocolate syrup, filling it up half way before filling the last bit with milk, making super duper chocolate milk that'll probably rot his teeth. "Don't you have better things to do than lecturing me?" he bites out, really only upset at how the suggestion of death makes him yearn.

Yearn for Dave, yearn for his heart to stop, yearn for reuniting with the only man he's ever truly loved.

"I do," Five quipped while polishing his rifle, which he only did when he was going to use it soon. A job must have come up-oh now nice it must be to be an merciless assassin. "I doubt your tiny brain could even begin to wrap around the fact that the commission is still out there. Waiting in the shadows to gut us alive- I know how they work."

"I know," he mutters, offended that Five thought so little of him but, he supposes that when you spend your days searching for the next high, you don't tend to know a whole lot more than a needle and a baggie of pills.

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a old unfinished oneshot. It was supposed to be a story at some point but I only worked on it for a day and I wasn’t really feeling it. Hope you enjoy anyway <3


End file.
